I haven’t known Ivy Everleigh long. She had bounced into my life when she needed a safe place to stay and we’d become friends, a much-needed friend. One thing I learned quickly was that she didn’t hide from telling the truth.
Only now it felt like she was hiding something.
Two days after we’d buried my father and things are starting to get back to normal. The castle looks lighter; curtains are wide open, windows ajar to let in the fresh spring air. The black that the castle team have been wearing has begun to be phased out and today there are fresh flowers cut from the garden in vases in every room I’ve been in. It feels new.
Hopeful.
I’ve spent most of the last twenty-four hours trying not to cry, and the previous twenty four crying. Tomorrow is my first formal appearance since my father’s death: a visit to the opening of a museum. Today my only job is to drive out to the cottage where my father’s aunt has stayed and take her some flowers. She’s a recluse who’s lived her life on the Isle of Skye and came for the funeral with no notice and few words.
Ivy is sitting alone in the library, reading a book that my mother wouldn’t approve of, its cover on display with a man on the front wearing just a smile and a six-pack.
Nate is out on a visit somewhere and Isaac has gone for a run, something he’s taken to doing. Apparently. I have every intention of interrupting Ivy’s reading and finding out where Isaac is exactly, because I know the sudden interest in running is a ruse; I just don’t know what for.
I sit down opposite her, the fire crackling in the background because while spring has begun, it isn’t that warm. I don’t have a book or a paper, and I sit with my arms folded, looking at her.
She eventually puts her book down and stares back at me. “What?”
“Where’s your brother?”
“He said he was going for a run.”
“I’m aware of that.”
She bites her bottom lip and her eyes fill with fear.
“Ivy, I know you’re keeping something from me. And because I know you’re good with secrets, I’m figuring this is something you think I should know.” My tone is harsh and to the point; it’s the one I save for meetings and summits when I need the men to take me seriously and not account anything I think to being because of emotions or hormones.
She looks out of the window. “My brother loves you. That’s what I need you to know.” She stands up, wanders to the fire place. “He would give up everything if he had to choose his career and you. Do you know that?”
I didn’t. Or if I thought it, I didn’t have the evidence. There is always the niggling ache that someone isn’t sincere, that they have an undercurrent of desire or ambition which is their motivation for having anything to do with me.
I know this isn’t the case with Ivy. She has Nate. She wants friends who won’t stab her in the back and will look out for her. She doesn’t care that I’m royalty because she’s her own kind of royalty with Nate. Queen of the high seas.
“He’s told me he loves me. But so did Ben.”
She turns around and I see silver light and sparks and a beautiful face that tells me everything.
“Where’s Isaac gone?” This time my tone is demanding and harsh. “Come on, Ivy. He’s with Ben, isn’t he?”
It becomes clear, like a thick smog has been lifted.
She shakes her head. “No… yes… shit, I don’t want you to be mad with either of them. They had to do this. Ben…” She steps closer to me. “I told him to tell you. Said you needed to know and that you’d keep it secret and not tell anyone. Fuck. Isaac’s going to kill me.”
I shake my head. “Unlikely. He won’t get the chance.”
She gives a half-laugh.
“He’s with Ben?”
She nods, her eyes not leaving me. “At some cabin about five miles away.”
I know exactly where it is. It’s where Ben would go when he was pissed off with his father and wanted to be on his own. He thought I didn’t know where he went, thought I’d been too tied up in my world of being a princess to be fussed about the place he escaped to.
I sit down. Hold my head in my hands. My heart is thudding because Ben is alive and I’m mad and angry and elated all at the same time.
“You know about the three of us?” I’m asking the sister of one of my lovers if she knows her brother is in a relationship with two other people. This isn’t your usual Sunday afternoon question.
“Yes.”
